


might kiss you on the back of your neck (it's christmas time)

by bovines (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, I am so sorry, M/M, Not really though, a fic about a toy shop so i can talk abt louis looking like an elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bovines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis works in a toy shop during the holidays and hates the seasonal workers, including Harry. Except he doesn't, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	might kiss you on the back of your neck (it's christmas time)

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to write a Christmas fic and i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> the title is from "Hey Guys! It's Christmas Time!" by Sufjan Stevens

Louis hates seasonal workers.

The thing about working in a toy shop during the holidays is that when December 1st hits, Louis’ boss spirals into a panic that causes him to hire eight new workers and then fire the same eight by spring.

This year, however, the eight seasonal workers seem to be more irritating than they have the past years.

“Liam,” He confronts his boss a week after the hiring. “Are you aware that you’ve managed to collect some of the worst people on Earth to work in your shop?”

“Just because they’re timid and quiet and don’t laugh at your jokes doesn’t mean they’re the worst, Louis.” Liam sighs.

“No, but this year they’re obnoxious and loud and s _till_ don’t laugh at my jokes.”

“Get over yourself.”

“Never. Please fire them.”

“Louis!” Liam shouts, finally looking up from his paperwork. “Christmas is,” Liam dramatically swings around in his spinning chair to face his calendar. “Eighteen days away!” He stabs a finger on the 25th, circled in angry red Sharpie and spins back to face him. “Please, for the love of Kris fucking Kringle, be cooperative. By spring you won’t even remember their names.”

Louis makes a noise that resembles a growl, turning on his heel and leaving Liam’s office. “I don’t even remember their names _now_.”

 

“ _Listen_ , for the last time, if the toy doesn’t come in a box, or is in some sort of rectangular shape, _do not use wrapping paper_. If they want it wrapped, put it in a bag.” Louis grumbles, clutching the poorly wrapped Webkinz in one hand.

“Sorry mate,” The Irish seasonal shrugs. His nametag says Niall, but Louis chooses to ignore it. “I’ve always thought that bags were kind of lame. Like, on Christmas, do you want to unwrap your gifts, or just take them out of a bag? Ruins the appeal, if you ask me.”

“Fancy that, I didn’t ask.” Louis snaps.

Niall—no, the _Irish seasonal_ —only laughs, which is not acceptable unless Louis is making an intentional and hilarious joke.

“You know,” an unfamiliar voice pipes from behind Louis. “For someone working a toy shop during the holidays, you aren’t very jolly.”

Louis turns slowly, but upon catching sight of the man in front of him, he wishes he had turned sooner. Louis suddenly recalls one of his mum’s erotica novels that featured a burly, tanned farmer clutching a busty blonde with a backdrop of a charming barn. This man is practically an embodiment of that illustration, minus the burliness, tanned skin, and woman with legs wrapped around his torso. But he does have a farmer’s hat.

For some reason, this man is still infinitely more attractive. His body, while definitely not brawny, is artfully muscled and covered in a layer of pale, milky skin. His hair is long and cascaded in tousled waves, framing narrow face and beautifully cut jawline.

Louis swears up and down he never actually _read_ any of his mum’s erotica; he just has fantastic describing skills.

“And you are?” Louis finally says after a pregnant pause.

The man sticks his hand out. “Harry Styles, seasonal worker.”

Louis stares at his hand for a few seconds before choosing to ignore it. “Well, Harry Styles Seasonal Worker, you should pay attention to your title. My job is that I can act however I fucking want and it’s none of your business. _Your_ job is to hang on until January and wrap some fucking gifts. And another thing—”

“Excuse me—”

“What?” Louis yells, wheeling around to face a very surprised woman with an infant in the crook of one arm and a child clutching the other.

Louis opens his mouth to apologize, but Liam’s conflict senses were tingling and he swoops in at that exact moment. “Louis! At my office immediately, please,” He says through clenched teeth. “Harry, please help this lovely woman.” Liam flashes a charming smile. The woman refrains from rolling her eyes, which Louis gives her credit for.

He trudges to Liam’s office and sits on the Fisher Price rocking chair Liam set up in the corner, which has unofficially been dubbed ‘Louis’ Time-Out Chair’. Louis detests it.

Liam enters shortly after, a scowl etched on his face. “Did we not have a conversation about being kind to the seasonal workers just a few days ago?”

Louis is stoic. “I don’t recall.”

 Liam sighs obnoxiously. “Fine, Justin Bieber, be a shit. You can sit in the chair for two minutes.”

“But _mum_!” Louis whines loudly.

“I should fire you.” Liam mumbles as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

 

It’s ten days until Christmas and Louis is afraid of the vein that’s beginning to protrude from Liam’s temple. He swears been trying to be as amiable as possible, but it’s becoming more and more difficult, especially as Harry’s presence becomes more and more noticeable.

Louis finds him in the break room one day, fiddling with aux cord that’s attached to Louis’ phone so the store will play his artfully organized Christmas playlist.

“What are you doing?” Louis demands.

“Oh,” Harry says. “I was hoping if I could switch it from your phone to mine. I made a Christmas playlist last night.” Harry seems stupidly proud of himself.

“The Christmas playlists are under my jurisdiction, so there’s no need for that. You can just—” Louis is cut off by the sound of Mariah Carey shifting to something indecipherable and disgustingly indie. “What is _that_?”

“It’s Sufjan Stevens.”

“Who?”

“Sufjan Stevens! American singer-songwriter, he’s got like three Christmas albums.”

“I don’t care, just turn it off!”

“Who’s gonna make me?” Harry challenges. Louis stops short and watches the smirk spread on Harry’s face. His mind goes back to the erotica farmer.

“Nobody,” Louis finally says. “Play your crap music, see if I care.” Louis storms out of the backroom with a pout and an annoying thrum in his heart.

 

The encounters begin occurring outside of work as well.

“Louis!” Harry cries from across the aisle in Sainsbury’s. “What are you doing?”

Louis looks down into his cart filled with Kraft Dinner, instant hot chocolate, and Hot Pockets. “I’m buying Christmas dinner.”

“A bit early, isn’t it?” Harry asks. His own cart is filled with three bunches of bananas, a package of candy canes, and pomegranate-scented body wash.

“Christmas is five days away.” Louis replies, even though it’s not really an answer.

“True. Hey, are you working on Christmas Eve by any chance?”

“Yes.” Louis sighs.

Harry seems elated. “Wonderful! We should throw a Christmas party or something with the other guys afterwards.”

Louis scoffs. “Liam hasn’t put on a Christmas party since 2010 when one of the workers drank an entire bottle of champagne and pissed on the LEGO display.”

“Oh,” Harry is silent for a moment. “Well, why doesn’t Liam host it at his place?”

“Do you really think Liam would trust any of us inside his house? Zayn has been caught in the break room with a joint _three times_ since he was hired, and the Irish seasonal almost sliced his finger clean off with an X-ACTO knife last week!”

“His name is Niall.”

“I know what his name is! The point is, Liam does not and will not do any Christmas parties, especially with any of you lot.”

 

“That’s a wonderful idea, Harry!” Liam says when Harry brings up a Christmas party the next day. “After everyone’s finished their shift they can stop by my house, if they don’t have any other plans of course.”

“Fuck you, Liam.” Louis whispers under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

 

It’s Christmas Eve, and the shop’s about to close.  Louis is wrapping his last gift for the last frazzled parent. Harry’s bullshit music croons from the speakers, but not even that can bother him. As soon as he and Harry close, he can go _home_.

It’s at that point that another cluster of people walks through the door. Their panicked voices stab Louis’ ears like knives and for a moment Louis wonders how many paper cuts caused by wrapping paper he would have to endure before he bled out and died.

“The store closes in five minutes.” Louis says quietly, but he is inevitably ignored. The group is ransacking the shop, shouting at their relatives to _grab the Nerf gun for Tommy! No, not that one, the other one!_

“Whoa, when did this start?” Harry is suddenly behind him, a Christmas bow plastered on the top of his head.

“I have seen hell.” Louis whispers numbly.

“Don’t worry; it’ll be over before you know.” Harry is disgustingly cheerful.

Louis goes about slaving over the wrapping paper and cash register. His mouth feels like putty after the amount of times he’s said, “Happy Christmas!” He’s been the blunt of the stress of every customer, which features snapping, sighing, and annoying _tsk_ ’s when his pace was less than that of The Flash.

Meanwhile, Harry takes his time chatting with every customer while managing to do very little work. Half an hour after the time the shop was intended to close, Louis is ready to kill, and he has his target.

“Harry!” Louis screams as soon as the bell above the door signals that the last customer has left. “What the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was what?” Harry asks innocently.

“You just stood there the whole time and didn’t help me at all!”

“I was talking to the customers!” Harry takes two strides and is suddenly directly in front of Louis. He would feel intimidated, except it’s Harry.

“You’re an intolerable, useless seasonal—”

“And you’re a whiny, moody Grinch—”

“Patronizing farmer boy—”

“Self-centered elfish twink—”

“Official cocksucker for Vance Joy—”

“Guys!” Liam screams, springing from the backroom with surprising speed. “Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you both?”

“He is the most incompetent worker this shop has ever seen!” Louis shouts, pointing at Harry indignantly.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with Scrooge here for over four years, because I can barely do it for three weeks!”

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed how terrible he is, but my guess is that it’s because you’re so far up his arse it’s hard to see anything these days!” At the exact moment Louis says it, he regrets it. Liam gives him a look that reminds him of his mother, and Louis has never felt like a bigger piece of shit in all his twenty-three years of life.

“I think you should sit in the time-out chair for a while,” Liam says finally. Louis can practically _feel_ Harry smirking. “And Harry will join you.” Louis almost laughs aloud.

“But it’s Christmas Eve!” Harry protests.

“Exactly, both of you can take some time to learn what Christmas is really about.”

“No need to make it a bloody advert, Liam.” Louis mumbles as he lumbers to the office with Harry following. Louis sits in his rocking chair, and Harry sits on the floor beside him.

“Now, stay here and think about what you’ve done.” Liam states. He shuts the door as he leaves, and Louis listens to the lock clicking into place. Harry seems affronted.

“Did he just lock us in? Isn’t that illegal?” Louis remains silent. “Fine, be a child about this.” Louis is strong and steadfast, with the willpower of an ox. “I just can’t believe I’m missing the Christmas party for this!”

Louis breaks. “You wouldn’t be missing much. I think it’s just Liam and the Irish seasonal showing up.”

“His name is—”

“His name is _Niall_ , I know.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be going?”

Louis snorts. “I can think of a few better places to be on my birthday.”

It takes Harry a moment to piece it together. “Wait, it’s your birthday?”

“Pretty annoying, innit? It’s quite the inconvenience, if you ask me.”

“Why would you work on your birthday? Don’t you want to spend it with people?”

“Keep in mind that I’m sharing my birthday with one of the busiest days in the year. And besides, I don’t have many people I’d spend it with anyways.”

Harry considers this. “That’s kind of depressing.”

“Don’t I know it?” Louis laughs, but at the same time he feels like crying. He always appreciates the phone call from his mum on his birthday, and the posts on his practically vacant Facebook wall, but he hasn’t felt like his birthday is _his_ in a long time. The fact that he’s been alone for the holidays for the past few years hasn’t helped much either.

“ _Happy birthday to you_ ,” Harry begins to sing, breaking Louis out of his reflection.  “ _Happy birthday to you._ ”

“Please stop.” Louis groans.

“ _Happy birthday, dear Louis, happy birthday to you,_ ” Harry seems delighted in himself. “See, at least you’re spending Christmas with someone.”

“It’s not much of an upgrade.”

“Heeyyy,” Harry nudges Louis’ shin with his elbow. “Rude.” Watching Harry smile and laugh, Louis experiences a strange fluttering in his chest. He hadn’t thought of the erotica farmer in a while, but he suddenly recalls the image.

“What about your Christmas Eve?” Louis asks. “Any plans other than getting drunk with your boss and coworkers?”

Harry shrugs. “Not much else actually.”

“Haven’t got anyone to go home to?” Louis jokes.

“Not since he showed up piss drunk at four o’clock in the morning with another man.” Harry grimaces. Louis immediately feels terrible.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it‘s alright. He was kind of a dick anyways.”

“You deserve better.” Louis blurts it before he realizes, but the grin that spreads on Harry’s face afterwards makes the embarrassment worth it.

“You really think that?” Louis wants to say yes, but he’s already dug himself a deep enough hole, and in going any deeper he might be swallowed entirely. He might want to be. “I thought you hated me.”

“I did. I do,” Louis stumbles over his words. “I don’t know. You’re definitely annoying, but I guess you’re not intolerable.”

“You flatter me,” Harry grins. Louis is suddenly aware of the fact that their faces have moved closer during their conversation. His heart is conducting an orchestra in his chest, so loud he feels lightheaded.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry is barely above a whisper, but Louis has never heard anything clearer. Louis’ tongue is deadweight in his mouth, so he just nods vigorously.

They knock noses the first time they go for it, but the second time is _perfect_. Louis can’t remember the last time he kissed somebody and it made him feel this amazing. Harry’s hands go to cup Louis’ face, and his own hands move to the collar of Harry’s shirt, tugging him even closer. Harry’s tongue slips inside his mouth and Louis makes an embarrassing whine.

“Can you get out of that rocking chair?” Harry pants between kisses. Louis springs up so quickly he almost falls over, but suddenly Harry is caging him with his arms and pressing him against the wall. His hands go to Louis’ thighs and hoist him up with a surprising amount of strength. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s torso.

In hindsight, they’re a perfect replica of the erotica farmer book cover.

Harry is sucking bruises into Louis neck, marking the space purple. “Fuck,” He murmurs against Louis’ collarbone. “Can I suck your dick? Can I do that?” Louis squeezes his thighs so tight he practically knocks the wind out of Harry.

“Yes, fuck, _please_ ,” He pants. Harry is mumbling nonsense as he lets go of Louis’ thighs and drops to his knees. He makes quick work of unbuttoning Louis’ work khakis and pulling them and his briefs down in one go. Harry sits back on his heels and stares at Louis’ newly-exposed cock, hard and leaking already, and licks his lips. Louis groans above him. “Don’t tease, Harry, _fuck_.”

Louis then learns that Harry is incredibly obedient, as he takes Louis’ cock into his mouth immediately after Louis speaks. Louis’ head knocks against the wall and his knees threaten to buckle. His hands go to Harry’s hair, tearing off the bow still stuck to his curls, then tugging at the strands and making Harry groan. He doesn’t have to pull further, however, because Harry moves on his own accord and it’s _amazing_.

It’s probably a minute or so but it feels like seconds before Louis is close. “Fuck, Harry, pull off,” Harry seems to ignore him, but then looks up through his eyelashes for a brief second, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Louis doesn’t understand how that’s what got him, but he doesn’t question. It’s one of the best orgasms of his life, and when he’s finished he’s pulling Harry upwards so he can kiss him. He can taste his own come in Harry’s mouth, and it should be disgusting but it’s _Harry_ so it automatically isn’t.

“Your talent is so wasted on gift wrapping.” Louis breathes. Harry laughs like a duck, which is something that’s bothered Louis since the day he met him, but suddenly everything Harry does is endearing and makes Louis want to finger him.

Louis has just got his briefs on again when the lock clicks and Liam is throwing the door open.

“What the—” He starts, but then stops. Niall appears behind him, sporting a Christmas jumper and holding a glass of red wine. He grins wickedly, pointing at Harry and winking before darting out of the room again. Liam heaves a mighty sigh of defeat. “I should fire the both of you.”

“Do I have to stay in the Time-Out Chair longer?” Louis asks cheekily while Harry giggles into his neck. It’s about time that someone appreciates the quality humour he puts forth each day.

“Fuck no; I’m never letting you in here again,” Liam glances to his digital clock on his desk, which shows that midnight has just hit. “Anyways, Merry Christmas ya filthy animals.” He says, pleased in his own joke, and then leaves for the second time that night.

It’s Christmas Day, and there’s come drying on Louis’ work uniform and his ass is still sore from sitting in a miniature rocking chair for an extended amount of time, but he’s also got a boy holding him close that makes it all worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, feel free to leave comments/kudos if you want!  
> find me on [tumblr](http://pantiesharry.tumblr.com/)  
> happy holidays!!


End file.
